


A Valentine's Day Domestic

by Jemima_Puddleduck



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Johnlock - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9684809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemima_Puddleduck/pseuds/Jemima_Puddleduck
Summary: A simple, fluffy, friends to lovers johnlock fic. I thought I should set one on Valentine's Day since it's so soon. Enjoy!





	

It was Valentines day in London, love was in the air, couples all over the city were celebrating their relationships and one murderer was running for his only chance at freedom. Sherlock and John were chasing after him through crowds of loved-up couples swarming around the  streets. Even though the noise around him was almost deafening, Sherlock concentrated only on the sound of his own heart beating furiously in his ribcage. They were quickly making up ground and the wanted man would soon be behind bars where he belonged. 

They turned off into a tiny side alley which was still glistening with the morning frost. Suddenly, John tripped and fell on his arm with a loud gasp. The noise made Sherlock turn and look but just as he made to start running again, the criminal they were chasing hopped over all a wall and disappeared. A few seconds delay, and they'd already lost him. Sherlock ran towards the wall,  slamming headlong into the bricks as he made to look over the top. His piercing eyes darted from side to side, frantically scanning the area for the criminal, but it was all in vain and their man was long gone. 

"Damn it John!" Sherlock shouted grumpily. "We could have got him!"

"I'm sorry Sherlock." He replied pitifully, holding back tears of pain and shock as he nursed his injured wrist. He could already tell that it was a nasty sprain. 

Sherlock huffed and stormed off down the alley, his coat swishing out behind him.

"Where are you going?" He shouted after him. The cold concrete was sucking all the warmth from his body as he sat helplessly on the ground.

"Back to Baker Street." He growled at him, not even bothering to look back.

\-------------------------------

Mrs Hudson was standing anxiously inside the doorway when John got back. She shot him a concerned look as he walked in, holding his wrist close to his chest.

"Where's Sherlock?" John asked her.

"Locked himself in his room." Mrs Hudson replied. "I thought I heard him kicking things so I thought it was best to leave him alone. What happened to you?"

"I tripped and fell on the ice and the killer got away. It's my fault he escaped and now Sherlock is pissed off with me." John replied, stony-faced . Everything about him was bristling with anger as he hunched over his wrist. 

"I'll get something for your arm." Mrs Hudson said, staring at John's injury. It was red and swollen already. 

She came back with the first aid kid she always kept in her cupboard. John hadn't been solving crimes for long, but he'd already picked up quite a few injuries on the job. He pulled out some bandages from the small, green box and immediately began bandaging his wrist.

"I'm going to go and talk to him." Mrs Hudson gestured towards Sherlock's bedroom door. John nodded back.

She knocked on the door gingerly.

"What." Came the simple reply from within.

"John just got back." She said. Before she could continue, however, Sherlock interrupted her.

"Good. I have some things to tell him." He marched out of the bedroom and into the living room. John had just finished bandaging his wrist and was securing the final pieces. Sherlock strode over and shot him a dirty look

"We could have caught him." Sherlock said, glaring at him.

"Yes we could've." John replied, matching his stare.

"Yes, but you had to trip up at the crucial moment and mess everything up."

"Well everyone makes mistakes Sherlock! You seem to like pretending that you're perfect and that you never make mistakes but you do. Like everyone else, you make mistakes too. I actually hurt myself, if you didn't notice already. You don't seem to care one bit!" John yelled, standing up and staring Sherlock hard in the face. "I help you. Every day, I help you to solve crimes and you don't ever thank me, you don't ever seen to care about me at all! I put up with you not showing any gratitude because I like to help you. But this time you crossed the line. And you know what, Sherlock Holmes. I've had totally enough! I make one tiny mistake, I have one accident, and you go mental! I've had bloody enough. You're a heartless bastard and I'm not going to help you anymore!" John shouted at him. 

He stormed out, hands clenched into fists and he slammed the door as hard as he possibly could behind him. He marched right out of the front door and into the street. Rain was beginning to fall as he slumped down onto the front step and lent back against the door, crying angrily. He started to shiver as he wrapped his arms around himself, tears mixing with the rain as it poured down around him. 

A few minutes later, John was shivering and his face was red and raw from crying. He was just recovering from his anger when the door softly opened behind him.

"I knew you'd be out here." Sherlock said from behind him.

"Of course you did you twat, because you know everything." John spat bitterly. "Did Mrs Hudson make you come out to apologise?"

"No actually. I came out because I wanted to, not because I was forced. I wanted to say sorry. I um...take you forgranted too often." He said, shuffling awkwardly on his feet. John turned to face him. Somehow he knew that he was being sincere. He was shocked. You didn't hear Sherlock making a sincere apology that often. But today he meant it. Sherlock Holmes was properly sorry.

"And..." He continued, "I do care about you." He took a deep breath "I like you a lot." He picked John up from the step and pulled him into a hug. He wasn't expecting it in the slightest and it caught him off guard. As Sherlock pulled him closer, John began to recount the many nights he'd spent dreaming of Sherlock's embrace, going over each detail, like how Sherlock's coat smelled musky and how his arms were stronger than they first appeared to be and the way he encircled him protectively, as if he was sheltering him from the world. Just this small gesture sent all of John's senses into overdrive. He wanted to push the thoughts from his mind and remind himself that he was still angry, but he couldn't bring himself to do it when Sherlock was holding him so tightly. 

"You're cold." Sherlock stated plainly, his chin resting gently on the top of John's head. 

"No shit." He mumbled into Sherlock's shoulder, making him laugh a little. "I'm sorry I called you a heartless bastard. You aren't. What I said was unforgivable and blatantly untrue. I'm sorry." 

Sherlock didn't reply, he just stood there with his chin bushing John's soft hair and his eyes closed. John didn't want to admit to himself how comfortable he felt pressed into Sherlock's chest, his best friend's heartbeat thumping in his ears. 

"I care about you too." John told him quietly, after a pause. 

"In what way?" Sherlock asked. John pulled back and saw his friend staring at him like a rabbit in the headlights. John didn't stop to comprehend what he was doing, or what was coming out of his mouth. He just prayed that he wasn't totally imagining the look of hope in Sherlock's eyes. 

John knew there was no going back now. 

"Probably not the way you think I care about you." Was his only clue. He stared at the ground, his feet shuffling awkwardly.

"I'm serious, tell me." Sherlock insisted. His eyes widened in a way John had never seen before. This was a brand new side of Sherlock, vulnerable, open and emotional. 

"You first." John said, smirking. 

"This isn't primary school." He said, slightly frustrated. 

"I know." He replied in a softer voice. "You first."

"Uh... I... I mean... Um ..." He stuttered, the words catching in his throat. "I don't really know how to say it."

"Find a way." Said John quietly, looking into Sherlock's eyes.

As Sherlock looked down at John's bright red, puffy yet extremely handsome face, he finally knew how to tell him what he had known for so long. He leaned in and kissed him gently, his hands softly cupped his face and Sherlock's slender fingers traced along John's cheeks as thier lips met. The rain fell steadily down around them and pooled under their feet, soaking them from head to foot. When Sherlock pulled away John could still feel his lips tingling. He looked into Sherlock's nervous face, waiting anxiously for his response, he couldn't help but smile. He watched his face flood with relief.

John had never believed that this moment would ever come. He'd been assured by Sherlock himself on their first case that he considered himself 'married to his work'. When he'd realised that he was in love with Sherlock Holmes he truly believed that he would have to hide it forever. He'd denied himself those thoughts, constantly pushing back anything that could threaten to destroy their friendship. Even as he'd confessed, he had wondered if he'd just ruined everything and lost the best friend he'd ever known. He had never been so glad to be proven wrong. 

As they made to walk back inside, he grabbed Sherlock's hand and they walked back into Baker Street with their fingers interwoven. As he looked up into his face, his heart beat a little faster. He felt Sherlock's fingers adjust themselves slightly and move up his good wrist. John just knew he was taking his pulse.


End file.
